Honorary Hufflepuff
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Marius dreams of being the first Black to be in Hufflepuff. But when he finds out he's a Squib, all hope seems lost.


_For the Squib Factory Challenge on the Hogwarts forum (enamel jewelry: Write about Marius Black)_

* * *

"Let's play Hogwarts!" seven year old Marius suggests with a gleeful grin.

Dorea nods, excitement in her eyes. "We have to be Sorted first!" she says before changing her voice to sound more proper, like a professor would sound. "Black, Dorea!"

She drapes the curtain over her head for just a moment. "Slytherin!" she yells, and Marius claps.

"Black, Marius," he calls, mimicking her tone.

He repeats the process. The curtain goes over his head for only a second. "Hufflepuff!"

His sister does not cheer. Her grey eyes widen, and she shakes her head. "You can't be a Hufflepuff, Marius!" she says quietly, looking around frantically to make sure no one is around who might hear. "It isn't allowed! Blacks are supposed to be in Slytherin!"

Marius rolls his eyes. He knows this, of course. It's been emphasized since they were old enough to know about Hogwarts. Blacks have always been Sorted into Slytherin, and they always will. He knows that when he takes his place and wears the Sorting Hat, it will send him to where everyone in his family has always gone.

But he's a child. Children can play pretend. If he wants to be a Hufflepuff, he can, even if it's just in his head.

"But I want to be a Hufflepuff!" he whines, stamping his foot. "They're loyal and hardworking! Slytherin is boring!"

Dorea presses a finger to his lips. "Better not let Mother hear you say that," she says. "You won't have dinner for a week!"

"But Dorea-"

"Shh! You can be a Hufflepuff, Mari. But don't let anyone know."

…

At eleven, he has to come face to face with the truth. He is an abomination. A Squib. The greatest shame the Black family has ever produced.

There will be no Hogwarts for him. He won't get to wear the Sorting Hat. He won't get to be the first ever Black Sorted into Hufflepuff.

Dorea finds him sulking in his room. She hugs him tightly, stroking his hair. "It's okay, Mari," she says.

"But I wanted to be a Hufflepuff," he sniffles.

"I know. I know," she says gently. "Want to know a secret?"

He nods. His sister's stories usually make him feel better, and even though he knows that it won't help him now, he's still eager to hear the wonderful tales that she can offer him.

"I'm going to ask the Sorting Hat to put me in Hufflepuff," she tells him, eyes alight with excitement.

"I hope you get it."

She hugs him again, resting her head against his shoulder. "Me too. For you."

"Father won't let me stay much longer," he whispers.

"I know."

"I'll write you every day, Dorea. I swear it."

…

At fourteen, he comes to terms with the fact that Dorea doesn't want to talk to him anymore. Cassiopeia hasn't tried to find him either, though that's hardly surprising.

He's alone in this world, nowhere to call home.

Marius tugs the raggedy coat around him like a blanket, curling up behind some rubbish bins behind a restaurant.

When he sleeps, he dreams of that amazing castle that he'll never see. He sits on the stool in the Great Hall.

The Sorting Hat declares that he's a Hufflepuff, and everyone, including his parents who are somehow there, cheers.

He can still be a Hufflepuff, even if it's only in his dreams.

…

Twenty year old Marius is surprised to see a familiar face wander into the restaurant. He believes that it can't be her, that she must just look like her. He returns to meat that he's seasoning when Carys, the waitress, hurries over to him.

"There's a lady out here who says she's your sister. I thought you were an orphan," she says.

"I am," he says sharply.

He doesn't know if it's quite true. For all he knows, his parents are still alive and well. Still, he's dead to them, and the feeling is quite mutual. Edward and Gemma Wallace, the owners of the restaurant, are his family now.

"Jacob, could you take over?" he asks his assistant.

"Sure thing, boss," Jacob says, and Marius excuses himself.

He makes his way over to the table. Before he can open his mouth to ask her to leave, to keep his past from catching up to him, she speaks.

"Mother and Father intercepted your letters," Dorea tells him. "Cassi found them two years ago. I've been looking for you ever since."

Marius laughs dryly and pulls a chair out, sitting across from her. He's tried to imagine what he would say if he ever saw a Black again. He's imagined all the angry words that would fall from his lips, the hurt, the accusations.

But Dorea has found him. Dorea has spent years looking for him. Dorea never gave up hope that they would meet again.

Marius swallows down the guilt. His thumbnail brushes anxiously against the table. How could he ever believe that Dorea no longer loved him?

"How did your Sorting go?"

"Slytherin. I asked for Hufflepuff, but I suppose I wasn't fit for it."

He shrugs. "I still love you."

"Look at you," she says, gesturing at the restaurant before them.

He flinches and waits for it. This is not the life for a Black. He continues to shame the family that has washed their hands of him by resorting to what her mother would call servants' work.

"Kind, as always. You were loyal, and you wrote to me, just as you promised," she says instead. "And I don't think I've ever seen a Black work so hard in my life."

He smiles at that. "It's just in my nature," he says with a shrug.

"I think you're the most Hufflepuff Black I've ever known, Mari," she says softly, taking his hand. "I'm sure the Sorting Hat would have agreed."

"I'll never know," he says, and he hates the bitterness that slips into his tone.

"You don't need Hogwarts to tell you that," she assures him. "You're a Hufflepuff in your heart, and that's all that matters."


End file.
